


Iron Legacy

by bluehasnoclues



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Past Brainwashing, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, no beta we die like men, there is no sex sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-06 14:27:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17346893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluehasnoclues/pseuds/bluehasnoclues
Summary: In a Siberian bunker, Tony is left for dead. They find and bring him to Wakanda to heal, but snow and blood still flash behind his eyes every time he tries to sleep.One of the most painful parts of any injury is cleaning out and disinfecting the wound. That goes for the mind, too.





	Iron Legacy

**Author's Note:**

> i like. never do present tense. so if you find any mistakes plz tell me

_There’s a bit of green in the blue of your eyes. How nice to find a flaw._

_._

_An empire toppled by its enemies can rise again, but one which crumbles from within? That’s dead. Forever._

_._

_...I know that road. What is this?_

_._

_The car hits. Crumples._

_The familiar sight of a motorcycle._

_The Winter Soldier steps up._

_“Sergeant Barnes.”_

_Lifts Howard’s head, punches once, twice. Metal arm. Nose broken, then left on the ground._

_Maria cries his name. “Howard!”_

_Puts him back in the car._

_The Winter Soldier walks the perimeter of the car, puts his hand on her neck. The human arm. Flesh against flesh._

_._

“Did you know?”

 _Silence for one long moment, tears in his eyes…_ “I didn’t know it was him.”

.

Pushing Tony’s face to the side, the Winter Soldier reaches for the reactor, dug his fingers into the suit — _he’s going to kill me_ —

— _he’s going to kill me with the same arm that killed my parents_ —

Pulse of light. The arm is gone.

.

Cap leaps forward, covering Bucky, protecting him,

— _the one who killed my parents and tried to kill me_ —

And then he fights. The blows come too fast, too hard.

“You can’t beat him hand to hand,” FRIDAY says, as if he doesn’t know. Rogers — because he isn’t Cap, not anymore — hits, with his shield and his fists, the shield that his _father_ helped create, his father that _Barnes_ killed —

“Analyze his fight pattern,” he manages under the blows, desperate now. He knows what his suit can handle, he certainly knows what Rogers’ can, _he helped create it just as his father did the shield_ —

Red flashes. Diagnostics, readings, repeatedly confirming the hopelessness of his situation.

“Countermeasures ready.” He finally reaches a hand up, stops the red-white-and-blue shield, but there’s no pride in the act. He’s so tired, his parents are _gone_ , his _mother_ —

_it wasn’t his father’s fault_

_oh god it wasn't his father's fault_

“Let’s kick his ass.” And Tony bats the shield away, advances as Rogers had been doing, but no, his advantage is over far too soon —

Rogers is on him. He found his shield. Hitting. Again and again, onto his faceplate, on his head,

— _almost like Barnes did to his father_ —

The faceplate slides off, and Rogers notices, and his eyes are readied to kill as he lifts the damned piece of metal up once more —

Tony blocks. Rogers goes for the ARC reactor.

“ _No_ ,” Tony says as the reactor cracks. He can feel it already, the lightning of his head and the pain in his lungs. “ _Please, no_ — ”

Rogers ignores him. Keeps hitting, tears threatening to fall, glancing at Barnes and throwing the shield into Tony’s chest with renewed vigor every time he sees blood on his childhood friend’s face.

“ _My heart, it can’t_ —” Tony tries, he really does, but his words are failing him and all he can do is take it, take the pain of his friends once more.

Even though Rogers isn’t his friend, after this.

Maybe he never really was.

.

Rogers finally stops.

It’s getting darker.

Tony can’t breathe, can’t breathe, the light is flickering on and off as Rogers leaves him and reaches for Barnes, lifting the Winter Soldier off the ground. “That shield doesn’t belong to you,” he calls, heart racing as it threatens to collapse, _why didn’t he just use Extremis when he had the chance_ — “You don’t deserve it.”

_his father made that shield_

Rogers drops it behind him, the loud, clanging sound of metal against concrete echoing through the bunker, and continues to walk away.

His mother’s cries echo louder.

.

 _ ****When Wanda showed him his greatest fear, the shield was broken. But it was still beside Rogers, because it was the essence of Cap, it was the symbol of who he was and the bond of their friendship, through each other and through the Avengers_ —

.

The Avengers. Wanda’s vision has come true. His team isn't dead, but they were torn apart, and it was his fault, he pushed and prodded and _ripped_ —

_why didn’t you do more? fear-Steve asks, the lone one speaking among the fallen_

Tony looks. Rogers’ back is to him, half-carrying Barnes,

— _because he won’t give either of them their titles, not anymore_ —

The Accords. It was all because of the Accords.

But it didn’t start there, did it?

It was from the beginning.

_earth’s mightiest heroes; pulled us apart like cotton candy_

It was all him.

_tony stark: not recommended_

The reactor stutters. Once. Twice.

Dying blue is the only source of light in the bunker. It’s getting cold, too cold, and his temperature regulation is broken.

“Boss?” FRIDAY asks, voice crackling over damaged speakers. “Calling King T’Challa —”

“ _No_ ,” Tony gasps, even though he knows that’s the smart thing, the only thing he can do, but _T’Challa is where the others will go, I know them, I know him, and I can’t put him in that position_ —

“Didn’t register that,” FRIDAY says, most likely ignoring his weakly-spoken command. He wouldn’t have listened to himself either. “Sorry, Boss.”

The speakers give one last second of static, and then everything is silent.

Tony watches a snowflake drift down from the sky. He’s dying, but it is beautiful.

He watches and he watches, because that’s all he can do, as his heart stutters and the shrapnel shreds and his lungs threaten to burst.

His parents died in December, but there was no snow. _Just Winter_.

Tony still can’t breathe, but in the silence, it doesn’t matter quite as much.

.

_I was the one to tear apart the avengers_

_it was the path I set them on_

_it wasn’t my nightmare, it was my legacy_

_._

He stops trying to breathe.

****

 

* * *

 

****

He’s not in his suit.

The unfamiliar lightness is the first thing he realizes.

HIs heart races — _oh god where am I where’s my suit what’s happened no no no_ — but, after a second, he gains control of his mind.

His heart is still beating, he thinks, so someone wants him alive. The bed he’s in is too soft, the room much too airy and open —

Wakanda, then. The bunker was gone. Siberia was gone.

“Mr. Stark,” A young voice pipes, and Tony startles — for a second he was brought back to Peter, the son that he would never have and didn’t deserve anyway — before looking up.

“I’m Shuri,” the girl announces in a somewhat self-satisfied tone, then immediately switches over to concerned. “You are in Wakanda.”

Tony nods slightly, then winces at the pain, then winces again at the pain of wincing.

Everything hurts.

Shuri taps something in her hand. Some part of Tony perks up, curious, that almost puppy-like interest that has gotten others into harm’s way one-too-many times, and he pushes the feeling deep down and locks it away with the rest.

The door opens. A familiar figure walks in, and Tony suppresses equal amounts of gratitude and terror. “King T’Challa.”

“Mr. Stark,” the man replies, looking vaguely irritated.

“Th —” Tony starts, then stops, furious as the words seem to stick in his throat the one time he genuinely means them. _“Thank you_.”

“Your AI contacted me.”

Tony doesn’t bother to hide his relief. He would have died if not for FRIDAY, and he very well intends to thank her as soon as the opportunity arises. He’s tempted to ask about the suit, but this is Wakanda and it’s far less likely that someone would be so bold as to steal his technology here.

The King reads the other unspoken question on his face. “The others do not know you are here.”

Tony wants to ask why, but he stays silent, instead offering a weak smile. T’Challa again sees what he wants to say. The man seems to debate about answering.

Eventually, the King shifts in his place by Tony’s bed and speaks softly. “You would have died in Siberia. They will not know of your place here unless you wish it so.”

 _“Thank you_ ,” Tony pushes out again, stubbornly ignoring the screaming in his chest and his heart and his mind and _it’s cold it’s so cold_ —

.

He loses track of the days.

Shuri is the confident version of Peter Parker. Tony, of course, is partial to his s— _the boy_ , but the conversations between him and Shuri are ones to look forward to.

It takes longer than he’d care to admit to stumble his way out of bed. The ARC reactor has to be repaired, but vibranium works differently from his tech and as brilliant as the Wakandans are, they don’t know the way around his heart.

He works with Shuri. It’s slow and tedious.

Tony misses Pepper, and Rhodey, and Happy, and —

No, that was about it.

_And DUM-E. DUM-E almost most of all._

He doesn’t have many people left, but he’s used to that.

Still, it hurts more than it should, because this time, they didn’t die in a fire. Or at least, he wasn’t the one that set the fire — he wasn’t the cause before, when he was left alone, but this time he is, and his heart aches from much more than just the reactor.

He rubs his chest and moves on.

.

He calls Rhodey, who then gets Pepper on the line. They know he’s okay, that he’s in Wakanda which is _somewhere_ , but they don’t know about Siberia or the bunker or his parents.

Hopefully, it would stay that way.

Funny, him keeping secrets after that’s what started this whole mess. But he thinks he’s earned it.

.

Two weeks of no one but Shuri, T’Challa, and Nakia. He trades all of six words with Okoye, but he counts that too. Tony still has no motivation to talk to anybody else.

.

It’s at the one-month mark that Shuri starts giving him a _Look_.

It’s different from Rogers’ Look, because it isn’t meant to guilt or convince him of anything. It’s more of an ‘ _I know what you’re doing by holing yourself up in my lab and even though I like you you’re eventually going to have to talk to them’_ Look.

Tony, of course, dutifully avoids her eyes as they go over the newest specs for Black Panther’s armor and a couple enhanced swords.

.

It’s one of his first days outside his rooms or Shuri’s lab, and he knew he should never have left.

But he was getting cooped up, inside, and he felt that a quick stroll around the trees, a quick pass by the flowers, would do him good.

It leaves him staring at a one-armed man in sheer terror.

The man stares right back, but it’s less terror and instead more — _guilt? shame? he can't quite tell_ — sad, he decides.

Neither of them speak.

Tony resolves to walk away, to pretend that his run-in never happened, that he was healthy again and seeing the Soldier didn’t scare him at all.

“Please don’t tell them,” he whimpers out instead, then immediately berates himself for sounding weak. “I mean —” His voice is stronger this time, but he’s interrupted anyway.

“I won’t.”

Tony’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth — though honestly he should — so he simply gives a strained smile and a small nod before quickly retreating to his rooms.

After all —

_stark men are made of iron_

.

He has a hard time going out of his rooms now.

Logically, he knows it’s stupid, but after seeing Barnes, his brain cuts off after a few steps and prefers to launch into a 4k re-run of Siberia.

Sometimes Tony really hates his memory.

.

Shuri is the one to drag him out.

He allows her, because while he may have self-destructive tendencies, that doesn’t mean he’s not aware of them. With the teenager leading the way, a simultaneously irritating and rejuvenating skip in her step, they make their way out the the gardens where no one else can wander.

After a couple days of supervised access and no one appearing, Tony feels safe to go on his own.

.

It becomes a daily thing. Then multiple times a day. Then to the point where he will take his work outside with him, fiddling with spare parts in a way he hasn’t done since MIT.

After that, it becomes his lifeline.

.

Tony has never been much for routine, but he’s enjoying the slower lifestyle. He still wakes in tears, or screaming, or panicking so badly that he can’t breathe.

Of course, as always, he can never let go, and is constantly throwing money out into the world and coaching Pepper on how to fight back.

.

He helps modify the Accords. He doesn’t try to get the ex-Avengers pardoned, but there’s talk of it anyway.

.

Two months into his stay in Wakanda and the Accords are finally adjusted to be relatively fair. Tony’s still not quite satisfied, but he’s done all he can without being there in person. Officially, he’s business-as-usual, in his lab in the Avengers tower with the rest  of the team — could you even call it that? —, and his disappearance from the media is largely seen as a blessing.

Officially, he walked away from the Accords without a scratch. Officially, he’s a slightly humbled version of his arrogant self. Officially, he’s learned from Ultron and has done all he can to make amends to the world, and has left as much of that behind him as he can. But that's it.

Unofficially, his eyes open too-early in the morning with his throat sore from screaming.

.

Tony forgot how good creating something _new_ felt.

With his sound-dampeners in place, people stop running to him as he wakes in the night.

His loneliness is a small price to pay for their sleep.

.

When he’s distracted, Tony starts sketching.

Sketching is bad, because then his brain is on autopilot and designing on autopilot is always a _terrible_ idea.

It was how Ultron began.

This time, though, he’s sitting in the garden with a spare bit of paper in hand and a broken pencil, absentmindedly filling in the details of a new-and-improved metal arm.

.

He tries to stop bringing pencils with him after that, but his mind moves too fast and if he doesn’t get the ideas out then they build up and fester and it starts to clog his common sense.

He finds ripping the paper to shreds to be almost therapeutic. Shuri thankfully doesn’t question the ruined schematics in the trash.

.

Tony finally manages to connect to FRIDAY. They talk for hours, though Tony first makes sure to thank the AI profusely for saving his life.

.

It's good. Very good.

And then Tony’s conscience goes and screws it all up.

He’s working on a way to combat PTSD — obviously, nothing personal at all — and with a certain teenage genius’ help, he's made progress. Real progress.

And late one night, as he's lying awake with several blankets but it's _still so cold I can feel the snow so cold_ , he thinks of murder.

He remembers what it was like to have someone in his head.

He knows it's different, but he can't shake the thought.

.

“Kitty,” Tony greets as T’Challa sweeps into the room. “I had an idea, wanna hear?”

.

It's been another month.

Three months, eighty-two days, almost two thousand hours of “recovery”.

It's T’Challa that finds him, this time, with good news.

“The trigger words are having a much lesser impact, thanks to your technology.”

Tony likes the feeling of doing things for people and it actually _working out_.

The King, however, isn't done. “He knows you're here. He'd like to see you.”

Tony frowns.

.

He tries to say no. Nakia is the one with the Look this time.

.

“Barnes,” Tony greets awkwardly, feeling out of place for the first time in a month. He's not in his usual garden — he didn't want to taint the space, it was meant to be safe retreat solely for him — but now he's almost regretting the choice.

Almost, but not quite.

“Stark,” Barnes replies, looking unfairly comfortable. “I wanted to thank you. And say sorry.”

Tony already needs a drink. Or five.

“Yeah,” Tony says, clearing his throat slightly. “Message received. Glad you're doing better.”

He doesn't listen to Barnes’ reply.

****

He can’t stop thinking about his mother.

He let go of his father a long, long time ago. It still hurt, yes, but that pain was nothing compared to hearing his mother’s cries.

_“Howard!”_

But no. It wasn’t Barnes’ fault. It was his father’s, again, even though in a different way. It was downright suicidal to transport the serum like that, without protection, in a civilian car, away from others, in the middle of the night. Howard had practically been asking for someone to kill him.

And sure enough, they ended up dead.

.

It wasn’t Barnes’ fault, but Rogers kept it from him all the same.

_i didn’t know it was him_

Bullshit.

.

The sketches get bigger. More detailed. Tony starts fiddling. A new kind of prosthetic, slowly coming to life.

.

It’s been another week.

“Hey, Shuri, do you know where T’Challa is?”

The teenager gives him a bittersweet smile, one far too old for her age, and calls the King.

.

T’Challa is giving him the same smile as his younger sister, albeit smaller and more subtle. “Mr. Stark, I think it is time you give it to him yourself.”

Tony sighs. He thought something like this would happen. Damn brain, never stopping, always pushing for more.

“Call him over, then. Same place as last time.”

.

“...Mr. Stark?”

Tony clears his throat. “Uh, hey, Barnes.”

“T’Challa said you wanted to see me?” Barnes is the one looking out of place this time, and even though it shouldn’t, it makes Tony relax.

Tony moves slowly. He’s still not sure if he should even do this, but he’s made up his mind. Three months is a long time to wallow.

_stark men are made of iron_

“They were in your head,” Tony says. His voice is stilted, despite practicing these words time and time again. His heart pounds too loudly in his chest.

“Stark —”

“ _Let me_ ,” he interrupts. “I don’t blame you. It was your fault, but I understand, and I don’t blame you.”

Barnes is quiet, sorrow and grief and regret etched onto his face.

So, uh, I ended up making something,” he says, shifting now. “I mean, I don’t know if I’m ready to see _them_ , you know, so maybe you could just tell them Shuri made it? And of course, if it brings back memories or anything, it’s no big deal, it was just, y’know, sleepless nights and all —”

“Mr. Stark.”

Tony coughs awkwardly. “Uh, yeah. Here.”

He shoves the arm out in front of him.

“It’s… I know I may have, uh, blown yours off, and being one-handed and all must be tough, so...”

Barnes just looks at him. The Soldier’s eyes shine. “Stark.”

“ _Yeah_ , bad memories, so I totally get it if you’re not interested, _trust me_. And I may have made a few modifications, which I do with everything, but I can always take them out if it’s too much or whatever —”

Tony clears his throat again.

“And I wasn’t sure about the metal, if you liked it or not, but I can always make it look more flesh-like, metal just tends to be my go-to so I’m sorry if that doesn’t work —”

“Mr. Stark,” Barnes breathes. _“Thank you._ ”

“And —” Tony pauses. “Wait, seriously?”

 _“Yes._ Thank you.” Barnes takes the arm, holding it carefully as he turns it in his single hand. “This is amazing. How long did it take?”

“Uh, not too long. Y’know, just a little tinkering here and there.”

“What did you change?” Barnes asks, eyes alight. Tony tamps down the urge to go on a rant, because Barnes doesn’t care about that, heck, Bruce was the only one who ever really cared and he still left —

“You can feel more,” Tony finally says. “And it won’t need as much maintenance. It’ll be lighter. Won’t throw off your gait like it used to. Hopefully won’t hurt like the old one probably did.”

“How… how did you know it hurt?”

Tony wants to snort, but he pushes that down, too, because now is so _not_ the time. “It was pretty obvious, sorry to say. When you were in Winter mode not so much, but as James —Bucky, sorry —, I could tell.”

Barnes mutters something that sounds awfully like _‘Stevie couldn’t’_ , but Tony ignores that.

“Yeah, so, if it’s something you’re interested in we could just pop on over to Shuri’s lab whenever and I could help you get it on. Obviously you don’t _have_ to, and it’s not a time-limited offer, so really, whenever —”

“How soon?” Barnes asks.

“Oh. Uh, now? I guess? If Shuri’s cool with it, I’m cool with it.”

Barnes smiles, and it’s the most beautiful thing Tony’s seen all week. He really has missed helping people.

Of course, he doesn’t voice his real reason for allowing himself to create yet another weapon.

_I don’t want you to always use the hand you killed my mother with._

Metal, in comparison, is better. HIs life has always been comprised of lesser evils, anyway.

.

_Three days earlier:_

_“The Accords? He changes them up a bit and expects that to make a difference?” Clint laughed harshly. “And he won’t even show his face. Who’s to say he didn’t just pay someone to slap his name on there?”_

_“Clint,” Steve started, then seemed to think better of it and changed directions. “Maybe he finally listened to what we were saying.”_

_“Or he realized how powerless he was without us,” Sam muttered from the corner. “And he’s trying to get us back.”_

_“Giving people things, it’s the only way he knows how to make amends,” Natasha said. “His default is to use his money.”_

_“And the murderer certainly has plenty of it,” Wanda said, “making his fortune at the cost of people’s lives.”_

_Bucky didn’t necessarily agree, but he stayed silent. It wasn’t his place to argue._

.

The next time he sees Barnes, the man is looking at him oddly.

There’s two more days before the surgery. Two more days, and he’ll have another arm.

.

He is drowning in his mother’s screaming.

It curls around him like a sick sort of song, wrapping him in its painful embrace. He is used to it by now, but it still hurts more than anything.

Tony knows that he is dreaming, but he can’t pull himself out his own mind. Maybe he doesn’t really want to. He misses his mother enough that when he sees her death, he’s still seeing _her_.

Every night, like clockwork, he watches his mom die.

Tonight, unlike all the others, Barnes’ scream joins the fray.

****

It’s the day of the surgery. Tony feels like he is going to vomit.

Barnes is awake, but he is quiet. The sedatives don’t work. They had known that they wouldn’t, but they were hoping. Instead Barnes has to be awake through the whole procedure.

Just like he was the first time.

The arm is fused to bone and nerves. They can’t find a way around that, so they have to repeat Hydra’s work. Tony watches as Shuri connects his technology to Barnes’ skeleton.

He has to leave the room to vomit after all.

Barnes watches him go with an unreadable look on his face.

.

Afterwards, Barnes finds him.

“I have an arm. They’ll want to know you’re here.”

“No.”

“Mr. Stark, you have no reason to listen to me, and my opinion certainly doesn’t matter much, but they should know.”

“No.”

Still, at Barnes’ words, Tony hesitates. He knows what it’s like to have an opinion that doesn’t matter.

“Think about it?” Barnes asks. “Please?”

“Fine.”

.

Barnes comes to him the next day. And the next. And the next.

Tony does his best to ignore him. It’s harder than it should be.

The worst part is that Barnes doesn’t even talk, and Tony can’t bring himself to force the man away without reason. Barnes nods in greeting and sits down to read as Tony works, flipping the pages reverently with his new hands.

It almost hurts to watch, so Tony turns his head away.

He still can’t give the assassin his back, so this will have to do.

.

It’s a week before Tony agrees to meet his old team.

Barnes and him are sitting in silence, the only sounds pages turning and pencils scraping.

“Should I go?” Tony asks quietly. It’s the first he’s spoken to Barnes in a week. Obligatory greeting-and-goodbye nods don’t count, he thinks.

“Meet them?” His voice is just as soft. “It’s up to you. _I_ think so.”

“Okay.”

“You go in first,” Tony says. “I’ll follow.”

“Do you want me to say anything?”

“You don’t have to.”

“I’ll go first,” Barnes says. “Tell them. Then you come in. If you want. They won’t touch you.”

Tony fiddles with the gun he absent-mindedly built just a minute before.

“You need a bigger shirt if you plan to hide that,” Barnes comments. Tony looks up.

“You don’t mind?”

“You bringing that? No. I still do.”

Tony shifts uncomfortably, not even bothering to be subtle about checking Barnes’ waistband. He thought he had checked. A shiver runs down his spine — had he really gotten so lax?

Barnes, unsurprisingly, notices his look. “Not in here,” the assassin murmurs, looking uncharacteristically awkward. “I don’t… I leave my… not when I’m with you.”

Tony doesn’t know what he had done to deserve that. “I could hurt you,” Tony says. Barnes smiles.

“I know.”

.

Barnes, as they planned, walks in first.

“Guys? I’d like to say something,” he says. The room takes a minute to quieten.

“I hated my life,” Barnes says haltingly, and Tony feels a spike of terror. _He’s going to make it personal._

“Buck?” Rogers asks, sounding worried. Tony isn’t surprised — he’d be worried too, in Rogers’ position.

“I’ve killed _hundreds_ of people,” Barnes continues. “I’ve done things that are unforgivable. And… you all keep telling me that it wasn’t my fault.” He pauses to take a shuddering breath, and his fingers start to rise in an aborted movement, like he wanted to run his fingers through his hair but wanted to look put-together more.

“But it _was_ my fault,” he says.

 _“Buck_ , of course it wasn’t your fault, Hydra —” Rogers starts, but Barnes ignores him entirely.

“It was my fault,” Barnes says. “They were in my head, and they made the orders, but — _I_ pulled the trigger. _I_ killed those people. And — and you all haven’t recognized that _it was my fault_ , because you’re worried about me slipping back, or killing myself, or _whatever_ — even when I keep saying that it was me. _Me_ , who did those things, things that I _remember_ , every second of every day, and —”

“That doesn’t mean it was you, Buck,” Rogers explains pseudo-patiently. “Like you said, they made the orders, and you didn’t have any choice but to —”

“I need you to listen to me, Stevie,” Barnes says. HIs voice is quiet but firm, and Tony feels a rush of _something_ , because Barnes supposedly doesn’t have a weapon on him, because he was with _Tony_ , and if they start crowding him, or talking over him, that would be very, _very bad —_

He almost wants to talk himself, to divert the attention, but —

The better part of him knows that they would take Barnes’ strange state and blame it on his presence, and probably attack him, and both Rogers and Maximoff are in there, and he would most certainly have a freak-out. And that was a combination that meant _not good things._

“I’m healing,” Barnes says, “and it isn’t because I have people that constantly excuse my actions. It’s because I have one — someone who recognizes that it _was_ my hand that pulled the trigger, my brain that followed out the orders, and is still willing to give me a chance.”

Rogers' voice is gruff. "What are you saying, Buck?" 

"I'm saying that I found help. And — my help, he's — he's my friend."

_This was bad._

"Who is it, Buck?" Rogers sounds almost dangerous. Protective, Tony has to remind himself, because  _he won't kill me, not here, he doesn't even know —_

"You won't hurt him," Barnes says, and Tony swallows, because Barnes may have been Rogers' childhood best buddy but this is  _not the way to deal with him —_

It's Romanoff that speaks next. "It's Stark, isn't it." 

"That fucking  _traitor?"_   Barton. 

"You brought  _the man who killed my family_ —" Maximoff. 

 _"Tony_ Stark? Are we thinking about the same Stark? 'Cause —"  Wilson. 

"Guys!" Rogers shouts. "Guys. Calm down. Let's hear him out. Maybe it  _isn't_ Tony."

Barnes is silent for a long, terrible moment. 

Then —

"We hurt him, Stevie."

"Please tell me you're joking," Barton begs. "You're joking, right?" 

"How  _could you?"_   Wanda sounds betrayed, and Tony knows that if she uses her mind magic, they're all screwed anyway. 

He steels his breath. 

Counts to ten. 

Quickly, of course, because he's running out of time and needs to pull himself together  _now — onetwothreefourgoodenoughten —_

"Long time no see, gang," he drawls, rounding the corner. He's confronted with red hands and an arrow pointed at his face.

Not a surprise, at least. 

He does his best to forcibly slow his heart, because it's still weak and can only take so much. 

Then a surprise;

He can't see. 

.

Barnes is standing in front of him. His stance is wide, protective. 

"You don't  _touch_ him," he snarls. 

This is fully James, Tony thinks somewhat disconnectedly, because Winter would never be so animalistic. 

 _"Buck_ —" Rogers begins, sounding torn. 

"How about you get away from that bastard and we can do what we do best?" Barton suggests. 

"I'd be more than happy to help," Maximoff adds, sickly sweet. 

_"You don't touch him."_

You set my heart aflutter, Tony thinks, and has to stifle the urge to laugh more than a bit hysterically. 

"Buck, how  _could_ you?"

"You keep saying my name like that's gonna bring me to your 'side'," Barnes says. Tony can't see his face, but he isn't sure he wants to. "Mr. Stark helped me. He  _is_ helping. And you —"

Barton laughs. "He makes you call him 'Mr. Stark'? Typical."

_This is Spiraling._

"I'm leaving," Tony murmurs, so quietly that no one can hear except Barnes and maybe Rogers. 

"We're leaving," Barnes repeats. 

_That wasn't what he meant —_

Barnes turns, looking down at Tony with — something. He moves like he's going to put a hand on Tony's shoulder, guide him out like a child, but aborts the motion when he sees Tony's eyes following the metal. 

Tony walks out. 

.

Barnes follows. 

.

"You're allowed to call me Tony, you know," he says softly, watching the ground. 

Barnes hums. 

"Seriously, Barnes. You — you backed me in there. Thank you. No need to — be so formal, or anything." 

Barnes is quiet for a long moment. "Okay, Tony." 

.

He doesn't see Barnes until two days later. 

Tony's sitting on a small bench in the garden, listening to the birds with a strange feeling in his heart. It's almost time to go back, he tells himself, because he's hidden from the world long enough. 

The birds chirp. The grass sways. 

Footsteps draw closer, and Barnes carefully sits beside him. No part of their bodies are touching. Tony isn't sure if he's relieved or offended that Barnes is avoiding him like he has a  _disease._

"I think I'm going to go to New York," Barnes says. 

"Mm."

"Don't tell anyone. Please."

Tony looks at him. "Then why did you tell  _me?"_

Barnes doesn't answer, saying instead, "James. My name is James."

Tony pauses. "Okay, James."

.

He likes it, Tony thinks, laying in bed and trying to distract himself from another nightmare. 

_screaming so loud howard help_

'Barnes' had suited him just fine, but Tony can understand. And he doesn't know if he would be able to call him  _Bucky._

But James...

He could work with that. 

.

"I'm going back too," Tony says the next day. "Get back to real life, and all that jazz." 

James hums. 

"We can — meet up sometime, or something, if you want," Tony says awkwardly. "I mean — the arm should be fine for a while, I made it so you wouldn't need anyone for a while, but —"

"I'd like that," James interrupts softly. 

.

Then he grins, roguishly, and Tony suddenly realizes that  _oh god he was popular with the ladies._ "It's a date."

**Author's Note:**

> okay so maybe it wasn't super tony/bucky but im bad at romancing okay


End file.
